Confidential Informant
by musikmonkie
Summary: When Liam goes undercover in Hugh Killian's gang, he finds the perfect confidential informant that could help him build his case.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Chicago Code.

Chapter One

Today was quickly going down the toilet. First, I woke up late. Of all days to wake up late, I had to pick today, the day I had a job interview for the first time since I got fired almost a year ago. Swearing profusely, I tumbled out of bed, grabbing whatever clothes I could, ripping a hole in my only pair of nylons, banging my knee into the dresser and stumbling to the bathroom. I did a quick job on my hair, swiped some mascara on my lashes (but not before stabbing my eye with the wand) and brushed my teeth.

When I dashed out to my tiny living room to grab my purse and head out the door, I froze in my tracks at the sight of three men seated in my living room. Two of the men looked way too big to fit in the room. Their arms were as thick as my waist and their heads were small melons balanced on their shoulders. When I entered the room, they stood; one moved to block my way to the door. The third man was smartly dressed with softly graying hair, and a steely blue gaze that chilled down to the bone. He sat calmly on my sofa, watching me, amused.

Hugh Killian. I clenched my fists and glared at him. He was the root of all the problems that had been plaguing my life the last several years. He was the reason my little brother was sitting in prison for a crime he didn't commit. He was the reason I got fired from the Musuem of Arts almost a year ago. And his presence here this morning only confirmed my suspicion that he was the reason I hadn't been able to get another job.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

A slow smile spread across Killian's smug face, "Oh, come now, Colleen. Surely your brother would be disappointed if he thought I wasn't keeping an eye on his poor, struggling older sister."

"If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be stuck in jail in the first place," I spat.

One of the muscle men took a step forward, but Killian held up his hand, "Your brother chose to take the rap for that murder. He knows where his loyalties lie." He stood and buttoned his jacket, smoothed his tie before turning his chilly gaze to me, "And I was hoping you had figured out where yours lay."

"My brother didn't kill that man," Even though Killian scared the crap out of me, I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. "He only confessed because you told him to."

"And now I'm telling you," Killian's voice dropped low and threatening. I kept my eyes level with his but my stomach was in a knot and it was a small miracle that my knees didn't give out. "That you will come work for me as a bartender at my pub. If you refuse, I'm afraid I'll have to make a call to my buddies at the jail and your dear little brother will have a very unfortunate accident." He paused for a moment before adding, "You should know, that no one in this city will ever hire you. You can refuse my job offer and spend the rest of your life in the vain attempt to find employment, but I have made sure that you will never be employed by anyone else."

It was just as I had suspected. Killian now owned me because he knew I would do anything for my brother, Tommy. My stupid, foolish little brother that had gotten mixed up with Killian's gang in the first place. My only family. The one that hid in the closet with me when we were little while our father had been in a drunken rage and we pinky swore we would always look out for each other.

I hung my head, to Killian it was a sign of submission. I didn't let myself think of it that way. It was merely what I had to do to keep my promise to my little brother.

"Fine," I ground out, "When do I start?"

Killian's smug grin of victory could have melted the wax off his expensive car. Some days, I really hated my little brother.

**Three Years Later**

The thing about Chicago is that even though times are hard and the streets are gritty, people are tough and crusty so that they can survive in the grim. Yet the sounds of the city combine into the perfect symphony: car horns beep, beep; rusty cars put, put; street vendors screaming expletives just as well as any rapper. Blurs of color of every hue assailed the eyes at every turn.

These days, I didn't bother enjoying the excitement of the city that used to inspire me and the dozens of paintings I created. I still painted, but it was hard to find the inspiration that used to be readily available. Mostly, I tried to keep my head down and bite my tongue so my brother wouldn't have to wake up to a shank buried in his stomach.

I arrived at the bar ten minutes before my shift was supposed to start. Even though I hated Killian and the fact that he cornered me into the job, I still couldn't bring myself to be late or be the bad employee I wanted to be. It was getting close to dinner time but the usual crowd, which consisted of the members of Killian's gang and a few immigrants that sought the company of their fellow miss-placed countrymen, hadn't yet started filtering in.

Irma, who was in her late thirties but looked to be in her sixties and had been working for Killian since she relocated from Northern Ireland several years ago, was working the bar with a rag in her hand and a dirty apron tied at her waist. She waved at me as I slipped behind the bar, "Hey, girl. What you doing here? I thought today was your day off?"

I grabbed a clean apron from under the bar and tied it around my waist, "I traded shifts with Caitlin. She had to take Ronny to the doctor's for his three month check up."

"Ah, that's right. She told me about that," Irma nodded her head as she tossed some empty mugs into the sink and started washing them.

That was about as far as our socializing went. I knew better than to tell Irma too much, she actually wanted this job and would tattle to Killian if I ever said a cross word or hinted that I hated the job in any way. Luckily, a group of guys chose that moment to enter the bar and pick a booth near the back. I didn't waste any time in snatching up some menus and bee-lining for the table. The four young men were all part of Killian's crew. Three of them had been in for a few years now and were slowly working their way up the ranks. The fourth was a new guy. Poor shmuck, I thought as I reached the table and gave them a fake friendly smile.

"Evening, gentlemen," I said as I laid out the menus, which in all honesty were just a waste of space. No one looked at the menu. Ever.

"Hey, Colleen," Will shot me an arrogant smirk just as he always did in the hopes that it would win me over. "You're looking fine tonight."

I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt advertising the bar. My hair was pulled up in a half-assed pony tail and I wore no make-up which made me barely look old enough to even be in the bar with my big blue eyes and freckled cheeks. I rolled my eyes, "Nice try, Slick. The answer is still no."

His friends all oh-ed as Will pursed his lips. "Colleen," Mikey, another one of Killian's cronies clapped a hand to the shoulder of the new guy. "This is Liam. He's our new friend so we're showing him the sites."

I turned my attention to the new guy. He had blue eyes and long curly hair pulled back into a pony tail. His smile was friendly. To me, he didn't seem like the type to be hanging out with these guys but give Killian a few months and this poor shmuck would be just as bad as the rest of them. I gave him my usual fake friendly smile.

"Colleen," Mikey informed Liam, "Is the best waitress here. She has just the right touch when pouring beer. Irma shakes too much 'cause she's trying to quit smoking and always gets way too much foam and Caitlin, boy, you never want to accept a beer from her, trust me."

"I'll remember that," Liam smiled up at me, not in the I-will-conquer-you way that Will did or the I-own-you way that Killian would, but in a way that my best friend in high school would have after we did something crazy and now had to keep the secret from the teachers or parents.

For a second, I was dumbfounded. Never once in all the years I'd been associated with any of Killian's crew did I feel like any of them could come close to 'friend' status. Then Liam waltzes in the bar and I'm thinking maybe this guy isn't so bad. But then, they never seem that bad at first, a little voice whispered in my ear and snapped me back to reality.

"So," I cleared my throat, "You guys want the usual then?"

They all nodded and reassured Liam that yes, he wanted the usual. I hustled back to the bar to put the order in to our resident chef, Big Dog. Then, I pulled out four mugs and filled them with beer imported straight from Ireland and delivered them to the table. More customer's started filing in so Irma and I tag teamed the waitress/barkeep duties. Irma's shift ended at nine when the dinner crowd was gone and I could tend the bar on my own until closing at one. Big Dog would keep the kitchen open until eleven, then spend the last two hours cleaning up in the back before helping me close.

I hadn't given Liam or the others a second thought after delivering their meal until Liam suddenly took a stool at the bar around midnight. He sat at the end, apart from the other two patrons, who were mostly clustered toward the middle so they could gab about the good ol' days. The other three guys were still at the booth, nursing their third beer of the night. Since things had slowed down, I was absentmindedly doodling on a napkin when Liam took his seat.

I quickly shoved the napkin away, "What can I get for you?"

"Actually, I couldn't help but notice you've been doodling on that napkin all night whenever things get slow," Liam's voice was clear and even, soothing almost. He'd only had one beer so far and I doubted the other three even noticed that he wasn't on their playing field for a fun evening. "Can I see it?"

I hesitated for a moment before handing over the napkin. No one ever noticed that I doodled on the job and it wasn't something I readily shared with anyone. After Killian got me fired, my art career became something I hid, unwilling to let Killian take even more from me. Liam took the napkin and admired the work.

"That's really good," He handed the napkin back to me as I mumbled a thank you. "You're an artist?"

I glanced down the bar, part of me hoping that someone needed a refill so I didn't have to answer, part of me hoping they didn't so I could. I didn't know how to feel when no one needed anything. "Yes," I answered finally.

"Have you seen the new exhibit they have at the Museum of Art?" Liam was being awful friendly and I was beginning to wonder if he wasn't that great at holding his alcohol and was just as wasted as his friends after the one beer.

"No," I replied. I spotted Will, Mikey and Ray all turned in their seats, watching us. Narrowing my eyes, I turned back to Liam, "Look, if those guys put you up to this and you're fishing for a date, you can just forget it."

Liam didn't even look phased that he'd been caught, "I will admit, there was some talk about you turning everyone down and being an untouchable, but that's not why I came over here." I cocked an eyebrow, not sure if I believed the last part. "I just wanted to see what you'd been drawing. Honest. I have a sister-in-law that is really big into art and, don't tell the guys this," He leaned forward slightly as if sharing some big secret. Without thinking, I leaned forward too so we were only a few inches apart, "But the interest has sort of rubbed off on me."

I grinned. Full on grin. I couldn't even remember the last time that happened. Liam grinned back and asked for a refill on his beer so he didn't have to go back to the table empty handed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

If I had to say when the worst time to be involved in a mob was, I would have to say when two mob bosses are having a lover's quarrel. One boss, controlling one racial population and another boss controlling another racial population in the same city do not make for good situations. Most of the time, they can stay within the agreed upon bounds but once those bounds get crossed by some yuppie new guy that doesn't know what he's doing, things get real ugly real fast. It's like having your vaguely distant cousin walk in on you with your pants around your ankles in the bathroom; there's a tense moment where you don't know what the other is thinking or how the situation is going to play out, then you snap to it, pull up your pants and while the relationship is rocky for a while, things eventually get smoothed over.

Unfortunately, that's the situation that we all found ourselves in. Chicago had plenty of street gangs of all races and religions, but only two mob families controlled the city: the Irish, ruled by Killian, and the Russians, ruled by Karkovich. Karkovich had three daughters that as far as I knew, had no idea the kind of life their father led. Two were still in high school; the oldest was in her sophomore year at the university. The same night that Will, Mikey, and Ray introduced Liam to the bar scene, Karkovich's oldest daughter was killed in a hit and run on her way to her apartment. It was discovered by Karkovich (the police hadn't caught up with the investigation yet) that the offending driver was Irish and one of Killian's merry men.

This was the moment in the bathroom were the door has swung open and neither side knew what was coming next. It could be that Karkovich demanded that Killian hand over the offender, or the offender mysteriously disappeared, or there could be an all out blood bath as Karkovich works out his grief over his daughter. No matter which situation played out, I was on edge, watching my back for anything that might go _boo_.

A few days after the incident, I was closing up shop with Big Dog. We got the money counted and stashed in the safe, the bar clean, the floor swept, the dishes washed. Stepping out into the chilly night, Big Dog waited as I locked the door and turned to leave. The wind was frigid so I dug my hands into my pockets and buried my nose in my scarf.

"Do you need a ride?" Big Dog asked. He was built like a tank and even in this weather only saw fit to wear a light jacket. The big guy didn't even shiver. He was unaffected by chill.

"I'll be ok," I replied, even as I clutched the pepper spray in my pocket. "It's only a few blocks and anyway, it's not the same direction as your place. I don't want to put you out."

Big Dog didn't look convinced, but he didn't question it. "Be careful," He said as he slid into his car and took off down the road.

I set off for home, keeping my head down and walking at a brisk pace to stave off the cold. I had only gotten a block away when a car came screeching down the street, its mean headlights trained on me. My first thought was shit; Karkovich was going to get revenge by running down on of Killian's womenfolk. That's how the game is played. My next thought was get the heck out of the way. Just as I got ready to spring away from the car, I was tackled to the ground. I landed hard on my shoulder and would have smacked the sidewalk with my head but a hand cradled my head, cushioning the blow. The car whizzed on by, around the corner and out of site.

My rescuer and I laid there, breathing heavy for a few beats before my rescuer shifted. He was right on top of me, chest to chest. He brushed my hair out of my face and concerned eyes met mine. It was Liam.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his gaze traveling over my face and his hand still stroking back my hair.

He was so close. I could feel the heat from his body all the way down to my toes. I could only recall one time I had ever been so close to a man and it had been a long time. My heart was still racing but I couldn't be sure it was from what just happened or the fact that I had an attractive man lying on top of me.

"Um," I replied stupidly. Mental eye roll. I shouldn't feel stupid; I shouldn't feel anything toward this guy. He was part of Killian's crew which put him in the definite do-not-touch zone. Of course, he did just save my life. And he did seem different than all the others. "I-I think so."

Liam pushed himself up and crouched beside me, helping me to sit up. As I pushed up, pain shot through my shoulder. Gasping, I almost fell back down, but Liam caught me. I leaned into him so that my head was resting on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around me.

"What's wrong? Where does it hurt?" He asked, his gaze traveling up and down my body in search of a wound.

"My shoulder," I took deep breaths to fight back the pain. "I landed pretty hard on it."

Liam almost looked guilty as we tried standing a second time, "Sorry."

"Don't be," I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was more of a grimace. "You just saved my life. I think I can handle a little bruise over death. My apartment is just down the street, we can get a look at the damage there."

With a smile, Liam put an arm around my waist and we began the trek to my apartment, keeping a wary eye out for any more enraged Russian drivers. My apartment building was a stoic, sturdy building that looked a little rough around the edges with its battered entry way and rusted rain gutters. The bricks were dirty and depressing, but despite its lack of appeal, it had top of the line security provided by none other than my favorite person, Hugh Killian. After I had accepted the job three years ago, he had me move into this building so he could keep an eye on me. Aside from being so close to his base of operations, it housed a good portion of his merry men and women.

Inside, the building was well maintained and fully updated. I led Liam down the hall to the elevator, which given my current injured status seemed like a better option than my usual hike up the stairs. I was currently the only occupant on the sixth floor. My neighbor across the hall had recently been caught skimming from the boss. The next day, word got around that he was swimming with the fishes and his apartment had promptly been cleaned out.

As we rode the elevator up, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, keeping my breathing slow and steady as the pain continued to radiate from my shoulder. I could feel Liam beside me; he hadn't left my side the whole time and kept a hand at my back as if to support me.

"Are you ok?" His voice was filled with concern and almost panic so I forced my eyes open and looked over at him. He was a lot closer than I thought he was; only a few inches separated us. I was momentarily speechless as I gazed up at his clear blue eyes so focused on me and my well being.

I tried to keep my eyes from watering, to put on a brave face for Killian's man, but those blue eyes seemed to strip me down and peer straight into my soul. Feeling the tears well up, I quickly turned away and muttered an "I'm fine." Thankfully, the elevator had reached my floor and the doors opened. I wasted no time in getting out and hustling to my door, though Liam stayed right beside me the whole time.

Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I unlocked the door and turned on the lights. My apartment had an open floor plan with the front door opening up to a small living room/dining room with the kitchen area further back. A short hallway led to the bathroom, a spare bedroom, and my bedroom. Even though I kept the apartment clean, art supplies and finished projects were clustered in every available space. I used the dining area as my work space so where a table should be, a large easel and half finished painting stood along with a tray of paints and a stool. Unused canvas leaned against the walls and finished paintings were propped alongside those. There were sculptures set to one side, sketches strewn over the coffee table along with photographs that I had recently taken and developed.

Liam took a moment to take it all in, "All of these are yours?"

I nodded and tossed my keys into a little bowl on a table beside the door. He swept one last appreciative glance around the room before turning his attention back to me, "Let's check out that shoulder."

Even though I was the one that said we should come to my apartment to assess the injury, now that he was here, one of Killian's men, in my apartment, I wasn't so sure. What if this was all some trick concocted by Killian to spy on me, see if my loyalties were still in line? What if Liam was only trying to score so he could brag to his new buddies that he had done what they couldn't? I stood there, battling with myself, biting my lip trying to decide what Liam was trying to get out of this. Liam cocked an eyebrow when I didn't respond and gently laid a hand on my good arm, guiding me to the couch.

"It's ok, I just want to make sure you're ok. If it's hurting this bad, you might have broken or dislocated it," He sounded sincere and the pain seemed to be worse, so I eased my coat off, wincing as I did, and sat on the couch at an angle so he could sit behind me and assess the damage.

For a moment, he was silent before he cleared his throat and in an unsure tone that I wasn't expecting from a mobster, he said, "I need to lift up your shirt so I can see."

That tone was so different from all the other guys that would have used the opportunity for their own gain that I felt my defenses slipping. This man was so different from all the other thugs that joined Killian, would it really be so bad to let him in?

Slowly so as to not cause too much pain, I eased the hem of my shirt up. About half way up, the pain shot through me and I gasped, squeezing my eyes tight to keep the tears back. After a moment, I opened them again. "Help," my voice was barely a whisper, but Liam didn't move until I uttered it. Gently, he took hold of my shirt and eased it up. I couldn't raise my injured arm so it was tricky getting it over my head and other arm so Liam could slide it carefully down off my injured arm.

I could barely feel his light touch as he examined the wound. After a few minutes, he declared, "It's dislocated. We're going to have to go to the hospital."

Letting out a shaky breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding, I nodded. The tears were too close to the surface so I didn't say anything for fear of losing control and crying in front of him.

"Do you have a button-down shirt to wear? It will be easier to get on," Liam asked.

Surprised by his thoughtfulness, I replied, "In my closet. Straight down the hall."

I kept my gaze averted as he stood and followed my directions. This man was curiouser and curiouser. With everything he did, he seemed less like the goons Killian hired on and I was left puzzling over how he came to fall in with this rough crowd. When he came back and helped me into a plaid button-down shirt, I resolved to find out more about him. If for no other reason than to figure out his motives. I refused to let myself hope that he would be the one person I could finally let my guard down around. That he could be the one light in the dark that had encompassed my life.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Liam and I had been waiting for almost an hour by the time we were allowed back to see the doctor. By then my head was pounding right along with my shoulder. After all he had done that night, I wasn't surprised that Liam stayed and escorted me back to the exam room.

Once again, I had to strip off my shirt so the doctor could exam my shoulder. Liam sat in the chair across from the bed, watching the doctor while I watched him. He was careful to keep his eyes up, glancing from the doctor to me with that concerned look of his but never did his eyes drop to my chest as so many of the other guys would have. Finally, the doctor seemed satisfied and I was able to slide the hospital gown back over my shoulder.

"Well, you're right," the doctor stated. "It's dislocated. We can pop it right back into place. I'll give you some pills to take the pain away before we do."

My gaze shot up to the doctor who had come around to face me, "No." I shook my head vehemently, "I don't want any pills. You do what you have to but I won't take any pills."

Liam cocked an eyebrow but I kept my gaze on the doctor, letting him know I was serious about this. With a shrug, the doctor sighed, "If you're sure."

"I am," I kept my voice even, not betraying the sudden fear of the pain to come.

The doctor took position beside me, grasping my arm in one hand and holding my shoulder in the other. Liam also stood and came to my other side. He offered his hand and I took hold of it. I hoped my hand wasn't too sweaty. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I rolled my eyes, annoyed with myself. What did I care if my hand was sweaty? It's not like we were on a date or anything.

And then all thoughts were replaced by pain as the doctor relocated my shoulder in one quick, painful jerk. I couldn't help but cry out as I clenched Liam's hand. The tears that threatened all night rolled down my cheeks and for a long, agonizing moment, all I could see was the white hot pain.

Then I gulped in a breath and panted as the pain eased to a throb. I opened my eyes to find Liam crouched before me, his brow wrinkled with concern, his free hand stroking my cheek.

"It's all over now," His voice was soothing and calm.

Suddenly aware that I still had his hand in a death grip, I let go and swiped the tears away. "I'm fine," My voice cracked, betraying me.

The doctor began securing my arm in a sling when the curtain across the door was pulled back and a man stepped in the room. Hugh Killian. His typical two henchmen bodyguards were at his heels. Icy cold eyes swept over the situation, noting Liam who had quickly returned to his seat before focusing on me.

"How's the patient?" Killian asked the doctor without taking his eyes off me.

I wanted to groan. It figures that the closest hospital had spies that would snitch to Killian the second one of his people shows up with an injury.

"Mr. Killian," The doctor nodded a greeting. So the doctor was the snitch, eh? "She's going to be fine once she gets some ice on that shoulder, gets the swelling down. It will be sore for a week or two. Keep it in the sling for four weeks then I want her to come back and have a follow up so we can see how well it's healing. Then we can see about getting her into some physical therapy."

Annoyed that he was suddenly ignoring me and discussing my medical condition with Killian, I narrowed my eyes, "What are you doing here?"

Killian waved a hand, clearly dismissing the doctor before replying, "When one of my people gets injured, I like to know how their doing."

"I'm fine," I replied curtly.

"Hm," Killian didn't seem impressed, "Tell me what happened." He turned to Liam, clearly wanting him to answer.

With a glance at me before he began, Liam told how he had made sure Mikey, who was drunk off his ass, made it home safely before heading home himself. As he was walking, he saw a car speeding down the road, intent on running me down. He explained that he reacted without thinking and tackled me to get me out of the way then brought me to the hospital to get checked out, leaving out the part where we went to my apartment.

As Liam spoke, Killian's lips disappeared in a thin line of displeasure. We all knew he was thinking the same thing we were: the Russians were making a move and Liam foiled their plans. Things were only going to get ugly from here.

Killian turned to me, "Get some rest. If you need anything, let me know." Meaning if I needed drugs to kill the pain or to forget my troubles, he'd hook me up. No thank you. "I'll even let you have the rest of the week off." I bit back a reply. That was his way of saying he still owned me; he loved throwing it in my face whenever he could.

Turning to Liam, he continued, "Get her home, make sure she's safe."

Liam nodded and we both were silent as Killian turned and left, his bodyguards falling into step beside him. I let Liam help me with my coat and escort me out to my car. Once we were on the way back to my apartment, Liam broke the silence.

"Why did you refuse the pain pills?" He kept his eyes on the road and his voice low as if he was trying not to upset me with a sensitive topic.

After all that happened that night, I figured it couldn't hurt to tell the truth. "My mom was an addict. She was constantly popping pills while I was growing up. I lost track of how many times she checked into rehab only to fall off the wagon a week later." I had long ago come to terms with how I grew up, so my voice was steady and level. I glanced out the window, suddenly feeling the weight of my fears. My voice was softer when I continued, "I read somewhere that addictions are genetic. I didn't believe it until my brother became an addict. One pill. That's all it took and I lost my brother forever."

Liam glanced over at me, "I'm sorry."

His sincerity was strange after being around Killian, but it also made it that much more distinct. Where Killian offered me a chance to heal to show he owned me, Liam provided comfort without asking anything in return.

Taking a deep breath and pushing all the fear of addiction, of Killian, of the uncertainty my life had become, I declared, "I'll never be like that."

…

_The city was still in the crisp morning air. It was too early for most of the inhabitants to be up and moving around which made it the perfect time for me to slip away and met Detective Jarek Wysocki to report on my assignment. We met down by the pier, far enough away that we didn't run the risk of one of Killian's or Gibbons' men seeing us together. When going up against the strongest men in the city, we had to be careful._

_Wysocki's partner waited several yards away, keeping an eye out. Wysocki joined me, his eyes scanning the area looking for any activity._

_"What do you have?" He asked, getting straight to business._

_I glanced across the softly rolling surface of the water, still uncertain about what I was about to tell him. Not that I didn't believe Colleen could help us, but if she did, we'd be putting her in as much danger as I was in if anyone found out I was a cop. "There's a bartender at Killian's pub, I think she could help our investigation."_

_Wysocki cocked an eye brow, "A confidential informant?"_

_I nodded, "From what I gather, she's been working for Killian for three years but the rumor is that she never wanted to join. I can't figure exactly why she did, but I think it might have something to do with her brother. As the bartender, she's probably heard more than one incriminating conversation between Killian and a handful of other criminals throughout the city, including Alderman Gibbons."_

_For a moment, Wysocki seemed to be mulling it over, "I'll talk to Teresa about it, but I'm telling you right now, I don't like it. This could be a way for Killian to sniff out snitches and cops. If, and I mean if, we even consider this, she wouldn't know that you're undercover. She'll deal with me. It's too risky to have her know you're a cop and we've invested way too much in this investigation to let it fall through because some flossy let herself get in your head."_

_Clenching my teeth, I retorted, "She's not a flossy. And I haven't let her get into my head. She'll hardly even talk to me or any of the other guys. She doesn't act like the other girls associated with Killian and I think we can use that to our advantage."_

_"Fine," Wysocki ran a hand over his face. "I'll talk to Teresa. We'll think about bringing her on, but like I said, she'll be in the dark about you being a cop."_

_…_

I sat in my car for a long time, gazing up at the austere walls surrounded by tall metal fencing. Clouds seemed to hang over head like an omen over the building. It was like the sky itself didn't want the inmates to have even the slightest glance at freedom. Most days, I found my situation to be not much better than my brother's. We were both prisoners. Only Killian was our true warden and he would never grant us freedom.

With a heavy sigh, I threw open the car door and got out. It had been almost six months since I had come to see Tommy, but I was already wishing the visit could be over. Seeing his cage only made mine that much more real.

It took longer to get through security than normal with my sling. They had to double and triple check it for any weapons or contraband and had to question me thoroughly before they were convinced I really did injure myself and I wasn't trying to sneak something passed them. Finally, I was led down the hall to the visitor's area where Tommy was waiting for me on the other side of the glass.

His easy smile greeted me, though his eyes were blank with that look I knew all too well that meant he was high. I picked up the phone and tried for a half smile in return.

"Hey, Tommy," I greeted, choking on the words because as much as I loved seeing my little brother, it killed me to see him high even more than it did to see him in prison. It was like nothing we'd been through together mattered.

"Hey, Collie," His eyes drifted down to my sling and his mouth fell open, his eyes widened. "What happened?"

I tried to shrug it off, "It's nothing. I just fell and dislocated my shoulder."

Tommy sat up straighter and his eyes came into focus, "What do you mean you fell? Did someone do this to you? Is Killian not taking care of you?" His voice got low and threatening. It was almost good to see him get so protective, like my brother was still there somewhere, buried under the drugs.

"He is," I reassured. "There's just been some trouble with the Russians. One of his guys was there to get me out of there with just this scratch."

"Does this have anything to do with that chick that got run over?" I was surprised by Tommy's question. Rumors and updates made it to the prison all the time but I didn't think there was time for these latest events to reach them.

I nodded, "Yeah. Karkovich is out for blood this time. After he tried running me down, he tracked down the guy that ran over his daughter, O'Malley, and shot him. Left the body in front of the bar to send a message to Killian."

Tommy shook his head, "I should be out there protecting you."

"Yeah, you should," I couldn't help but take the jab. "If you hadn't taken that wrap for Killian, you wouldn't be here right now."

"I had to," Tommy declared. We'd had this fight before, so he didn't say any more on the subject. "I want you to stay close to Killian and his guys. They'll look out for you. What about the guy that was there to save you? What did you say his name was?"

I hesitated before answering, "Liam. He's a new guy, hasn't even been on a big job yet."

Tommy nodded his understanding. We both knew it wouldn't be long before Liam was put on a big job. Big jobs were like initiation. At first, they gave you little jobs to bring you in on the scam. They built up trust and when you were ready, you got a big job. Then they'd have you. No turning back after a big job.

"Stay close to him, then," Tommy was saying. "And, sis," He added just as I was about to hang up and leave. Our eyes met and I saw the Tommy I remembered, the one that I hid under the table with and promised to look out for. The one that promised to look out for me as well. "Thank him for me, will you?"

I furrowed my brow, "For what?"

"For looking out for my sister when I couldn't."


End file.
